Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, April 12, 1881, by Various
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Title: Harper's Young People, April 12, 1881
An Illustrated Weekly
Author: Various
Release Date: April 6, 2014 [EBook #45325]
Language: English
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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, APR 12, 1881 ***
Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]
* * * * *
VOL. II.--NO. 76. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, April 12, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BABES IN THE WOOD--A TABLEAU.]
HOW SHALL I MAKE A LIVING?
"What business shall I follow?" is the question every young man and boy
asks himself; "how shall I make a living?" and the best answer is, "By
learning some useful trade." Nearly all the good men who have succeeded
in life have begun in this way. Benjamin Franklin went to Philadelphia
from Boston. He was a printer by trade, very skillful and industrious.
But when he reached Philadelphia, tired, feverish, and weak, he had only
a few pence to spend. He bought three pennies' worth of rolls at a
baker's, and as he could not eat them all, carried a part under his arm.
As he passed a house in Market Street he saw a young lady on the stoop,
who was afterward his wife. He soon found employment at a printer's, and
attracted the notice of the neighbors by working late at night when
others were asleep. "That young man," they said, "is sure to succeed."
He drew business from his rivals, and made money. He studied, and became
a fine writer; he never ceased to work. He drew the lightning from the
skies with a kite, and he aided in forming our republic. He lived to a
great age, in good health, useful to his fellow-men, prosperous, and
happy, because he had learned a trade.
George Washington was poor in his youth. He went to a country school,
and then learned to be a surveyor. As a boy he was always ready to work,
and passed his youth in the wild woods of Virginia measuring land. When
he became a man he defended his country and made it free. He was always
fond of farming, and passed his later years in that pursuit. The habits
of labor and accuracy he had formed in his youth made him what he was.
Had he never learned to be a surveyor, he would probably never have been
of use to his fellow-men.
Another of these useful Americans was Robert Fulton. Almost every one
travels on steamboats or crosses the ferries; but how few remember who
it was that first made the steamboat a common thing. Robert Fulton was
its real inventor. He became a mechanic when he was a boy, and was never
tired of visiting workshops. Afterward he learned to draw and paint, but
all his life he was still a mechanic, inventing useful machines. He
improved canals, and made boats that moved under water. At last, in
1807, he built the first steamboat that was successful. One night the
people on the banks of the Hudson were startled by the sudden appearance
of a fiery monster, whose panting breath sounded along the shore. It
seemed to breathe out great clouds of fire and smoke. It shook the
smooth surface of the water, and sailed against wind and tide. It was
evidently a demon. The sailors on board the sloops of Esopus fled from
it as it came along: nothing like it had ever been seen before. But it
was only the _Clermont_, Fulton's first steamboat, that had begun its
trips between Albany and New York. The first voyage was made in about a
day and a half; the sloops sometimes spent a week or two in getting to
Hudson.
The advantage of a trade is that it exercises the body and makes the
mind active. It produces a sound mind in a sound body. Franklin was fond
of swimming, and would sometimes float for a long time in the Delaware.
He found that he wanted change after setting type. The machine-shop, the
engineer's room, or the carpenter's and mason's occupation, probably
give sufficient exercise, but even this should be varied. One of the
best employments for young men is farming. They may go out to the great
West and settle on the rich lands that are offered them by the
government, and help to feed the Europeans, or they may take a small
farm of a few acres near a city and raise vegetables and fruits. They
should first learn how to farm by beginning early to work for some
intelligent farmer. There is no occupation pleasanter than this if well
understood, and none that produces a more certain profit. Manufactures
of different kinds also offer a sure employment for the young and
strong, and stores and counting-houses are everywhere open.
Among the famous inventors are Arkwright, Watt, and Whitney, all of whom
were brought up in workshops. Arkwright invented a machine for spinning
cotton; he was a poor workman, laboring at his trade, and at first all
his efforts to complete his invention failed. He was very poor, but he
was never discouraged, and at last his spinning-jenny was used in every
factory in England, and made his fortune. Watt, a young engineer, worked
upon the steam-engine until he made it a useful and wonderful machine.
From a poor boy he became a member of the once famous firm of Boulton &
Watt. Whitney, born in Connecticut, invented the cotton-gin after long
labors; it brought American cotton into use at once, and made the nation
and Whitney rich together. These are only a few of the remarkable men
who have risen to great usefulness in trade. Among the noted citizens of
New York nearly every one has been trained in a workshop. Astor,
Vanderbilt, Stewart were skillful workmen in their different
occupations; Peter Cooper was a careful mechanic. It is easy to see how
much better off every young man or boy would be if he had a regular
trade.
But he should never forget that at the same time he should get as much
knowledge as he can. Knowledge teaches men to be gentle, honest, pure,
and bold, and, well used, it leads them to the surest success in life.
The boy that learns most is sure to be the most valuable to his
employers. It was because he studied mechanics so carefully, as a boy,
that Fulton invented the steamboat; because he learned, in his youth, to
write well and think, that Franklin became useful to every one. Every
boy and young man should spend two or three hours each day in study. He
should love history, poetry, and perhaps music, and in his conduct avoid
everything that is gross and vile. In this way he is certain to lead a
happy, prosperous life, useful to all around him. He will make a good
son and father, brother, friend, and citizen.
INDIAN CORN: A LEGEND.
BY BENSON J. LOSSING.
The unwritten and sometimes pictorial literature of the North American
Indians abounds with much poetic thought. The creations of their dark
minds in meagre language often assume the forms of really beautiful
legends, especially those which relate to the origin of created
things--thunder, wind, and rain; the sun, moon, and stars; beasts,
birds, and fishes; grain, fruit, and flowers; and the races of men.
These constitute the fabric of their narrow mythology.
One of these legends tells us that a youth, the son of a sachem living
on the borders of one of our great lakes was impelled by a thirst for
wisdom to go far into the forest, where hunters seldom trod, to a sunny
savanna, to fast and pray in solitude. It was early in May, when
song-birds had just returned with the south wind, and were beginning to
warble their love ditties.
There the youth built for himself a lodge, and covered it with the
odorous sprays of the balsam-fir, leaving a wide opening for the
admission of light. He painted his face in sombre colors, and like the
old Christian hermits, who sought the favor of Heaven by penitential
humiliation in the solitude of the desert, this pious barbarian prince
sought light and knowledge in this lonely spot, in humble obeisance of
body and soul before the Master of Life. To the Great Spirit he prayed
for some bounteous gift for the benefit of his race.
Day and night this youth fasted, until, famished and weak, he lay down
in his lodge at noonday, and slept. Toward evening he awoke, and looking
up through the opening in the boughs above him into the blue depths of
the heavens, he saw descending from the azure vault the form of a
beautiful young man robed in a bright green garment, his head adorned
with plumes of green and gold colors. Standing at the door of the lodge,
this embodied spirit said:
"Arise, faithful boy, and come forth. Only by wrestling with me can you
obtain the coveted blessing which you seek. I am Oneasti [Maize], a
child of the Sun, and a friend of mankind."
The weak youth obeyed. The evening sunlight spread a delicious glow over
the dark forest and the little prairie, casting long shadows from the
woods across the springing grass and the timid flowers, then first
beholding the face of their great King and Creator. So soon as the youth
touched his celestial visitant, moral strength that gave promise of
victory in the contest thrilled his whole being. For an hour they
wrestled, when the dusky prince, with bodily strength exhausted, retired
to his lodge for repose.
The next day Oneasti again summoned the youth to the wrestling. Greater
than before was his moral strength, and Hope bade him persevere. Again,
on the third day, did the wrestlers contend, with the same result, when
Oneasti said:
"To-morrow will be the seventh day of your fast, and the last time I
shall wrestle with you. You will triumph over me, and gain your wishes.
As soon as you have thrown me on the ground, strip off my garments, and
bury me on the spot in soft fresh earth. When you have done this, leave
me for a while, but come occasionally to visit my grave, and keep the
noxious weeds from growing upon it. Once or twice cover me with fresh
earth."
Oneasti then vanished, but the next morning he stood at the door of the
lodge, and again summoned the young prince to combat. Long they
contended. In the struggle the strength of the youth continually
increased, until he threw Oneasti on the ground. Then he faithfully
obeyed the instructions of his celestial friend. Carefully removing the
tender greensward, he laid the body of the vanquished in the earth, and
covered it with fresh, well-pulverized mould. Then he returned to his
home, his face radiant with joy as the undoubted heir to a great
treasure.
The young prince soon returned, and was delighted to see the green
plumes of the heavenly stranger springing up from the earth through the
soft mould, but contending with unsightly weeds for the privilege of
light and air. These incumbrances to growth were removed, and the earth
around was kept fresh and clean. In due time the youth was charmed by
the vision of a stately plant, taller than himself, surmounted with
tassels of flowers of clustered spikes, and bearing delicious fruit
incased in sheaths of long leaves, and lined with silk. When the frost
season approached, this fruit became hard, golden-hued grain, containing
most nutritious food for man and beast. The plant gracefully waved its
long leaves and golden tassels in the autumn wind.
"Come," said the young prince to his parents, on a soft October day,
"and I will show you a great blessing from the Master of Life."
They followed him to the sunny savanna, where hoar-frost lay hidden in
shaded nooks. They pounded the golden grains, and made cakes from the
flour thereof.
"It is _Men-du-min_, the grain of the Great Spirit," said the father.
They invited their friends to a feast on the excellent grain, and there
were soon great rejoicings among many nations because of the boon. It
was Maize. When Europeans came, centuries afterward, they called it
_Indian Corn_. It proved to be as great a blessing to them as it had
been to their barbarian neighbors. To-day it is the food of thousands of
Christians and pagans, civilized men and savages, from the Gulf of
Mexico far toward the frigid zone. It is indeed _Men-du-min_--the grain
of the Great Spirit.
NEXT SUMMER.
BY LAURA LEDYARD.
Beautiful things there are coming this way
Nearer and nearer, dear, every day--
Yes, closer and closer, my baby.
Mischievous showers and faint little smells
Of far-away flowers in far-away dells
Are coming in April, my baby.
Sly little blossoms that clamber along
Close to the ground till they grow big and strong
Are coming in May, little baby.
Roses and bees and a big yellow moon
Coming together in beautiful June,
In lovely midsummer, my baby.
Pretty red cherries, and bright little flies,
Twinkling and turning the fields into skies,
Will come in July, little baby.
Feathery clouds and long, still afternoons,
Scarce a leaf stirring, and birdies' soft croons,
Are coming in August, my baby.
Glimpses of blue through the poppies and wheat,
And one little birthday on fast-flying feet,
Will come in September, my baby.
EASTER-EGGS.
BY MARY A. BARR.
The giving of an egg as a mark of friendship or love is almost as old as
the ark, of which it is a symbol; for the ancients used it as a sign of
resurrection, and brought eggs to the altars of their gods as gifts.
Placed on the Passover table of the Jews, it means the destruction of
the whole race and its resurrection. The Druids used it in their
ceremonies, and the Persians present it at the New Year. A Russian will
salute you on Easter morning with "Christ is risen," and offer you his
Easter-egg; and what is still stranger, the Mohammedan will do the same.
And, my dear little readers, when you break your egg at breakfast, you
are doing just what the Greek and Roman boys and girls did centuries
ago, for they began the first meal of the day with eggs; and egg-cups
resembling ours have been found in Pompeii; only they preferred the egg
of the pea-hen or Egyptian goose.
Easter-Monday is the proper time for the presentation of peace eggs, and
to prepare them is always a work of love; for if they are given as
reminiscences of ourselves, then we should be very careful that they are
both tastefully and appropriately made; and if they are intended as a
means of instruction (as they first were), then don't be tempted to put
Cupids or ridiculously grouped flowers or fruits on what should be plain
and yet well done. For instance, I once saw an Easter-egg with a text
from the Bible on one side, and a Cupid throwing kisses on the other,
and it was painted by a person who ought to have known better.
When you are preparing them, stop and think what will be most suitable
for sister Lucy or brother John. An egg with butterflies and flowers
would be utterly thrown away on Lucy, who is three years old; she would
much rather have one that is striped with many colors. But sister Ann,
who is eleven, would prize one with butterflies, forget-me-nots, and
rose-buds; while John, who is fourteen, would like his with a horse,
dog, bat and ball, bicycle, or almost anything that represents his
pleasures.
All these are easily done if you are at all skillful with your brush or
pencil, and if not, then you may know of some one who would be glad to
make a few cents preparing them for you. I know of one little girl only
twelve years old who made seven dollars last year painting Easter-eggs
for ten cents apiece.
And there are lots of other ways, too. Eggs boiled in logwood will be a
rich purple, and then you may scratch with a penknife any design you
like. You can wrap an onion-skin around them, and they will be
beautifully mottled, or a piece of chintz, or anything that is
bright-colored and will fade. I have one that was colored with ribbons
in this way that is very pretty.
Another way of preparing the eggs is to plunge them into hot water for a
few moments, and then to write with tallow a name or draw an ornament on
the shell. The egg is then boiled in water containing any colored dye or
solution, and the color will not attach itself to the shell in any part
which has been covered with grease, and consequently all ornaments will
appear white. An egg with a text of Scripture on one side, and the
flower that is sacred to Easter-Monday--that is, the star-of-Bethlehem,
or marsh-marigold--drawn on the other with tallow, and then dyed purple
with logwood, would make a very pretty gift for your Sunday-school
teacher.
Sometimes the surface of the egg is divided into spaces, to be filled up
according to the taste and skill of the designer. One may contain the
name and age, another a landscape, the third a good wish, the fourth, if
you have so divided it, a likeness or flower. In some parts of England
eggs simply dyed and dotted with tallow are presented to the Junior
Class at college, and in Germany they have a way of adorning eggs with
foliage, all in transparent work, which is cut out with aqua fortis. In
Rome, the Easter-eggs are carried to the parish priest, who blesses
them, and sprinkles them with holy water, and on Easter-day at dinner
the cloth is adorned with sweet herbs and flowers, and the first thing
eaten are the blessed eggs; they are painted by the nuns, and sold in
the streets.
In New York, fancy candy eggs are to be had in the confectioners'; but
those we make ourselves are worth twice as much, even if we are not
artists enough to decorate them alone, but are forced to use
decalcomanie, chintz, or onions.
There are some Easter-eggs that have come down to us in history; and who
can be sure that the ones you are making this year may not lead to great
things. So, children, be careful that if you give an Easter-egg, it
bears no sorrowful or unhappy memory, and that in after-years you will
not be ashamed to own it as yours.
[Illustration: OLD EASTER-EGG NOW IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.]
Not many of you can give a silver one, as Charles the Second did to one
of his favorites, nor will there be many who can make them as beautiful
as that shown in the engraving, which is copied from one in the British
Museum, that was presented to a lady of high rank nearly two hundred
years ago. It was sawed open, the inside of the shell being cleaned and
dried, and then lined with gold paper, and decorated with the figures of
saints done in silk. It opens and shuts, and is tied together with green
ribbons. But if this is beyond your power or skill, you can at least
make an Easter offering of your own design that will be much more
acceptable to your friends.
[Illustration]
A PASSING CLOUD.
BY M. J.
A little cloud went slowly sailing
Across the sunny sky;
A woful little-wind went wailing
Through the tree-tops high:
A sudden sunbeam danced across the shadows,
And so the shower went by.
A little frown came stealing after
A gusty little sigh;
A pearly tear-drop drowned the laughter
Of a merry eye:
A sudden smile danced in the baby dimples,
And so the shower went by.
[Begun in No. 58 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, December 7.]
TOBY TYLER;
OR, TEN WEEKS WITH A CIRCUS.
BY JAMES OTIS.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A DAY OF FREEDOM.
Toby ran at the top of his speed over the rough road, and the monkey,
jolted from one side to the other, clutched his paws more tightly around
the boy's neck, looking around into his face as if to ask what was the
meaning of this very singular proceeding.
When he was so very nearly breathless as to be able to run no more, but
was forced to walk, Toby looked behind him, and there he could see the
bright lights of the circus, and hear the strains of the music as he had
heard them on the night when he was getting ready to run away from Uncle
Daniel, and those very sounds, which reminded him forcibly of how
ungrateful he had been to the old man who had cared for him when there
was no one else in the world who would do so, made it more easy for him
to leave those behind who had been so kind to him when he stood so in
need of kindness.
"We are goin' home, Mr. Stubbs," he said, exultantly, to the
monkey--"home to Uncle Dan'l an' the boys, an' won't you have a good
time when we get there? You can run all over the barn, an' up in the
trees, an' do just what you want to, an' there'll be plenty of fellers
to play with you. You don't know half how good a place Guilford is, Mr.
Stubbs."
The monkey chattered away as if he were anticipating lots of fun on his
arrival at Toby's home, and the boy chattered back, his spirits rising
at every step which took him further away from the collection of tents
where he had spent so many wretched hours.
A brisk walk of half an hour sufficed to take Toby to the woods, and
after some little search he found a thick clump of bushes, in which he
concluded he could sleep without the risk of being seen by any one who
might pass that way before he should be awake in the morning.
He had not much choice in the way of a bed, for it was so dark in the
woods that it was impossible to collect moss or leaves to make a soft
resting-place, and the few leaves and pine boughs which he did gather
made his place for sleeping but very little softer.
But during the ten weeks that Toby had been with the circus his bed had
seldom been anything softer than the seat of the wagon, and it troubled
him very little that he was to sleep with nothing but a few leaves
between himself and the earth.
Using the bundle in which was his riding costume for a pillow, and
placing the lunch Mrs. Treat had given him near by, where the monkey
could not get at it conveniently, he cuddled Mr. Stubbs up in his bosom,
and lay down to sleep.
"Mr. Lord won't wake us up in the mornin', an' swear at us for not
washin' the tumblers," said Toby, in a tone of satisfaction, to the
monkey; "an' we won't have to go into the tent to-morrow, an' sell sick
lemonade an' poor pea-nuts. But"--and here his tone changed to one of
sorrow--"there'll be some there that'll be sorry not to see us in the
mornin', Mr. Stubbs, though they'll be glad to know that we got away all
right. But won't Mr. Lord swear, an' won't Mr. Castle crack his whip,
when they come to look round for us in the mornin', an' find that we
hain't there?"
The only reply which the monkey made to this was to nestle his head
closer under Toby's coat, and to show, in the most decided manner, that
he was ready to go to sleep.
And Toby was quite as ready to go to sleep as he was. He had worked hard
that day, but the excitement of escaping had prevented him from
realizing his fatigue until after he had lain down, and almost before he
had got through congratulating himself upon the ease with which he had
gotten free, both he and the monkey were as sound asleep as if they had
been tucked up in the softest bed that was ever made.
Toby's very weariness was a friend to him that night, for it prevented
him from waking, which, if he had done so, might have been unpleasant
when he fully realized that he was all alone in the forest, and the
sounds that are always heard in the woods might have frightened him just
the least bit.
The sun was shining directly in his face when Toby awoke on the
following morning, and the old monkey was still snugly nestled under his
coat. He sat up, rather dazed at first, and then, as he fully realized
that he was actually free from all that had made his life such a sad and
hard one for so many weeks, he shouted aloud, revelling in his freedom.
The monkey, awakened by Toby's cries, started from his sleep in
affright, and jumped into the nearest tree, only to chatter, jump, and
swing from the boughs when he saw that there was nothing very unusual
going on, save that he and Toby were out in the woods again, where they
could have no end of a good time, and do just as they liked.
After a few moments spent in a sort of jubilee at their escape, Toby
took the monkey on his shoulder, and the bundles under his arm again,
and went cautiously out to the edge of the thicket, where he could form
some idea as to whether or no they were pursued.
He had entered the woods at the brow of a small hill when he had fled so
hastily on the previous evening, and looking down, he could see the spot
whereon the tents of the circus had been pitched, but not a sign of them
was now visible. He could see a number of people walking around, and he
fancied that they looked up every now and then to where he stood
concealed by the foliage.
This gave him no little uneasiness, for he feared that Mr. Lord or Mr.
Castle might be among the number, and he believed that they would begin
a search for him at once, and that the spot where their attention would
first be drawn was exactly where he was then standing.
"This won't do, Mr. Stubbs," he said, as he pushed the monkey higher up
on his shoulder, and started into the thickest part of the woods; "we
must get out of this place, an' go further down, where we can hide till
to-morrow mornin'. Besides, we must find some water where we can wash
our faces."
The old monkey would hardly have been troubled if they had not had their
faces washed for the next month to come; but he grinned and talked as
Toby trudged along, attempting to catch hold of the leaves as they were
passed, and in various other ways impeding his master's progress, until
Toby was obliged to give him a most severe scolding in order to make him
behave himself in anything like a decent manner.
At last, after fully half an hour's rapid walking, Toby found just the
place he wanted in which to pass the time he concluded it would be
necessary to spend before he dare venture out to start for home.
It was a little valley entirely filled by trees, which grew so thickly,
save in one little spot, as to make it almost impossible to walk
through. The one clear spot was not more than ten feet square, but it
was just at the edge of a swiftly running brook, and a more beautiful or
convenient place for a boy and a monkey to stop who had no tent, nor
means to build one, could not well be imagined.
Toby's first act was to wash his face, and he tried to make the monkey
do the same; but Mr. Stubbs had no idea of doing any such foolish thing.
He would come down close to the edge of the water, and look in; but the
moment that Toby tried to make him go in, he would rush back among the
trees, climb out on some slender bough, and then swing himself down by
his tail, and chatter away as if making sport of his young master for
thinking that he would be so foolish as to soil his face with water.
[Illustration: BREAKFAST IN THE WOODS.]
After Toby had made his toilet, he unfastened the bundle which the fat
lady had given him, for the purpose of having breakfast. As much of an
eater as Toby was, he could not but be surprised at the quantity of food
which Mrs. Treat called a lunch. There were two whole pies and half of
another, as many as two dozen doughnuts, several large pieces of cheese,
six sandwiches with a plentiful amount of meat, half a dozen biscuits
nicely buttered, and a large piece of cake.
The monkey had come down from the tree as soon as he saw Toby untying
the bundle, and there was quite as much pleasure depicted on his face,
as he saw the good things that were spread out before him, as there was
on Toby's, and he showed his thankfulness at Mrs. Treat's foresight by
suddenly snatching one of the doughnuts, and running with it up the
tree, where he knew Toby could not follow.
"Now look here, Mr. Stubbs," said Toby, sternly, "you can have all you
want to eat, but you must take it in a decent way, an' not go to cuttin'
up any such shines as that."
And after giving this command, which, by-the-way, was obeyed just about
as well as it was understood, Toby devoted his time to his breakfast,
and he reduced the amount of eatables very considerably before he had
finished.
Toby cleared off his table by gathering the food together, and putting
it back into the paper as well as possible, and then he sat down to
think over the situation, and to decide what he had better do.
He felt rather nervous about venturing out when it was possible for Mr.
Lord or Mr. Castle to get hold of him again, and as the weather was yet
warm during the night, his camping-place everything that could be
desired, and the stock of food likely to hold out, he concluded that he
had better remain there for two days at least, and then he would be
reasonably sure that if either of the men whom he so dreaded to see had
remained behind for the purpose of catching him, he would have got tired
out, and gone on.
This point decided upon, the next was to try to fix up something soft
for a bed. He had his pocket-knife with him, and in his little valley
were pine and hemlock trees in abundance. From the tips of their
branches he knew that he could make a bed as soft and fragrant as any
that could be thought of, and he set to work at once, while Mr. Stubbs
continued his antics above his head.
After about two hours' steady work he had cut enough of the tender
branches to make himself a bed into which he and the monkey could
burrow, and sleep as comfortably as if they were in the softest bed in
Uncle Daniel's house.
When Toby first began to cut the boughs he had an idea that he might
possibly make some sort of a hut, but the two hours' work had blistered
his hands, and he was perfectly ready to sit down and rest, without the
slightest desire for any other kind of a hut than that formed by the
trees themselves.
Toby imagined that in that beautiful place he could, with the monkey,
stay contented for any number of days; but after he had rested a little,
played with his pet a little, and eaten just a trifle more of the lunch,
the time passed so slowly that he soon made up his mind to run the risk
of meeting Mr. Lord or Mr. Castle again by going out of the woods the
first thing the next morning.
Very many times before the sun set that day was Toby tempted to run the
risk that night, for the sake of the change, if no more; but as he
thought the matter over he saw how dangerous such a course would be, and
he forced himself to wait.
That night he did not sleep as soundly as on the previous one, for the
very good reason that he was not as tired. He awoke several times, and
the noise of the night-birds alarmed him to such an extent that he was
forced to waken the old monkey for company.
But the night passed, despite his fears, as all nights will, whether a
boy is out in the woods alone or tucked up in his own little bed at
home. In the morning Toby made all possible haste to get away, for each
moment that he staid now made him more impatient to be moving toward
home.
He washed himself as quickly as possible, ate his breakfast with the
most unseemly haste, and taking up his bundles and the monkey once more,
started, as he supposed, in the direction from which he had entered the
woods.
Toby walked briskly along, in the best possible spirits, for his running
away was now an accomplished fact, and he was going toward Uncle Daniel
and home just as fast as possible. He sang "Old Hundred" through five or
six times by way of showing his happiness. It is quite likely that he
would have sung something a little more lively had he known anything
else; but "Old Hundred" was the extent of his musical education, and he
kept repeating that, which was quite as satisfactory as if he had been
able to go through with every opera that was ever written.
The monkey would jump from his shoulder into the branches above, run
along on the trees for a short distance, and then wait until Toby came
along, when he would drop down on his shoulder suddenly, and in every
other way of displaying monkey delight he showed that he was just as
happy as it was possible.
Toby trudged on in this contented way for nearly an hour, and every
moment he expected to step out to the edge of the woods, where he could
see houses and men once more. But instead of doing so, the forest seemed
to grow more dense, and nothing betokened his approach to the village.
There was a great fear came into Toby's heart just then, and for a
moment he halted in helpless perplexity. His lips began to quiver, his
face grew white, and his hand trembled so that the old monkey took hold
of one of his fingers and looked at it wonderingly.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
AN ENCHANTED SHIP; OR, THE DUTCH CAPTAIN'S DEVICE.
BY DAVID KER.
"Sail on the starboard bow!"
"What is she?" asked Captain Martin Pieterszoon, looking anxiously in
that direction; for in the Eastern seas, two hundred years ago, every
strange sail was a terror to the captain of a well-laden Dutch
merchantman.
"Can't quite make her out yet," answered the look-out at the mast-head;
"looks like a brigantine--very rakish cut altogether."
The Captain's face darkened, and his lips tightened. They tightened
still more a few minutes later, when the look-out hailed again, "She's
an armed brigantine, bearing right down upon us."
Every face among the crew seemed to _harden_ suddenly, but no one spoke.
Indeed, what need was there of words? All on board understood in a
moment what was before them. They were about to be attacked by pirates,
and there was not a single cannon--not even an old musket--aboard the
vessel.
It was a terrible moment for them all--more terrible still for the poor
Captain. For years he had been toiling and saving, bearing every kind of
hardship, and facing every kind of danger, until he made enough money to
become part owner of the ship that he commanded. He had made three
successful trips in her, and was now going home for good, to settle
himself in a snug little house on the great canal at Amsterdam, with
rosy-cheeked Gredel Voort, his old neighbor's only daughter, for his
wife. And now, all in a moment, he found himself face to face with a
hideous peril, which threatened him with the loss of all he had in the
world, and his life to boot.
The crew stood looking moodily at the approaching vessel, which came
sweeping over the bright blue sea with its huge white sails outspread
like the wings of a swan--a perfect picture of beauty, though it brought
death along with it. Some of the bolder spirits were already beginning
to mutter to each other that it would be better to set fire to their own
ship, and die like men, than be flung into the sea like dogs, when the
Captain's gloomy face suddenly lighted up as nobody had ever seen it
light up yet, and he burst into such a loud, hearty laugh that the
doomed men stood amazed to hear him.
"Cheer up, lads," he cried, still laughing; "all's not over with us yet.
Come, knock the head out of that cask of butter, and smear the deck with
it--sharp, now!"
The men only stared blankly at him, thinking he had gone mad, and even
the stolid mate opened his heavy mouth in amazement.
"Do you hear?" shouted the Captain. "Look sharp, will you? there's no
time to lose. Grease the whole deck fore and aft, and the rigging too as
high as you can reach. We'll give these rascals a slippery job of it,
anyhow."
_Then_ the sailors began to understand, and the shout of laughter that
broke forth would have mightily astonished the pirates had they been
within hearing. In a twinkling the deck was greased until it fairly
shone, bulwarks and all.
"Now, boys," cried the Captain, "on with your sea-boots, and put sand on
the soles to keep you from slipping, and then each of you take a
handspike, and be ready."
The pirate was now so near that they could see quite plainly the rabble
of gaunt, sinewy Malays, woolly-headed negroes, and sallow, black-haired
Portuguese that crowded her decks. A few minutes more, and she ran
alongside, and almost before the two vessels had touched, three wild
figures leaped from the pirate's rigging upon the merchantman's deck.
But it was a very unlucky jump for all three. The first man spun across
the slippery deck as if it had been a skating rink, and went right out
into the sea on the other side. The second tumbled head-foremost down
the hatchway into the cook's galley, where the black cook considerately
piled a heap of iron pans on him to keep him quiet.
"Aha, Massa Pirate," said he, grinning, "dis ship no de _Flying
Dutchman_, him de _Sliding Dutchman_!"
The third pirate had leaped on board as fiercely as if he meant to kill
the whole crew at one blow; but the only man he hurt was himself, for he
hit his head such a whack against the mast that he almost knocked his
brains out, and fell down roaring with pain. All this so frightened the
other pirates that they thought the ship must be bewitched, and rushing
back to their own vessel with a howl of dismay, made off as fast as
possible.
For many years after, one of the familiar sights of Amsterdam was a
portly old gentleman with a jolly red face, at sight of whom the boys
used to begin singing,
"Captain Martin Pieterszoon
Made his ship a buttered bun,"
and his wife was never tired of showing the huge silver butter-dish
presented to him in honor of his repulse of the pirate with a cask of
butter.
INDIAN CHILDREN.
Although Indian children have their games and good times as well as
their more civilized brothers and sisters, they also have much hard work
to do, and are taught to help their poor tired mothers almost as soon as
they learn to walk. One of the principal duties of Indian children is
that of supplying their camp or village with water. These camps are
always near a river or stream, for of course wandering tribes of Indians
can not have wells or cisterns, and from the river the children must
carry up to the lodges all the water used in cooking.
In this work they call to their aid their playmates, the dogs, always
plentiful in Indian villages. To the collars of the dogs are fastened
two long light poles, one on each side, that drag on the ground some
distance behind them. On these poles, about half way to the ground, is
fixed the kettle or earthen jar that is to be filled with water, and
then the dogs are driven down to the river.
Some of the larger boys have ponies, to which they attach heavier poles
in the same way that the light ones are fastened to the dogs, and on
which they can carry as much as a barrel of water at a time.
At the river-side the children have great fun while filling their
various jars and kettles; they duck and splash each other, run, scream,
laugh, and often forget entirely that the village is waiting for its
daily supply of water, until the shrill voice of some squaw mother warns
them that they are neglecting their duty, and if they do not attend to
it at once they will have to suffer the consequences.
[Illustration: GETTING WATER FOR THE VILLAGE--DRAWN BY W. M. CARY.]
The sketch for the accompanying picture was made in Dakota one bright
morning last summer, and represents the children of a Sioux village near
Fort Berthold, going down to the Missouri River with their dogs and
ponies for a supply of water. These dogs look more like wolves than the
dogs to which we are accustomed, and to strangers or those whom they
regard as enemies they are very savage, but with their little Indian
masters they are very patient, and from them will bear any amount of
abuse.
The jars that the children are filling are made by their mothers from
the clay of the river-banks, and resemble in shape those borne on the
heads of the Egyptian women who carry water on the banks of the Nile.
SO VERY STRANGE.
BY CHARLES BARNARD.
It was the office-boy who heard it all. He told it to the janitor, and
the janitor told it to the night-watchman. Both of them said they never
heard anything like it.
"Ghosts and spooks and spirits ain't anything to it," said the watchman.
"You ought to know," said the janitor. "You prowl about here all night."
"I never heard a single book say a thing, much less a lot of letters."
Then the office-boy had to tell the whole story all over again.
The letters had come up from the office, and were laid on the desk ready
for the editor of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, when the office-boy came into
the room. All the letters had been cut open, and lay in a heap on the
desk, and the boy was just going to take one up, when he heard a thin,
rustling, papery voice speak right out, and say, "Can't you let a fellow
out?"
"Yes, sir," said the boy, opening the door.
There was no one there. Besides all that, the doors were all unlocked,
and any one who wished to do so could get out. The office-boy thought it
was very queer, and he went back to the desk and sat down.
"Oh, come now, I say! Do let a fellow out."
The office-boy jumped right out of the chair, and said, "Yes, sir."
Well! Of course you won't believe it. There was nobody there. The
office-boy sat down again, and said, in a solemn manner, "I swan!"
"Oh!" cried a very thin crickling voice, "I never expected to come to
such a place to hear such dreadful words."
The office-boy blushed deeply, and then began to take the letters out of
their envelopes and lay them open on the table ready for the editor.
Each time he did so some one said, "Thank you; you're very kind; much
obliged," in the politest manner possible.
"Guess these letters come from that beautiful country where all the
children say, 'Yes, marm,' and 'Thank you,' and 'If you please.'"
And then the whole thing went on in the most startling way. Every letter
had something to say. Talk! Letters talk? To be sure. When you read a
letter, does it not tell you something? Anybody can understand
everything they say the moment you look them in the face. When the
office-boy heard all the letters talking at once, he puckered up his
mouth, and tried to whistle, but his lips only made up a round O of
surprise. He didn't say a word, but tried to remember what the letters
said.
"I came from Chicago, and I want to find a boy or girl who will trade
postage stamps for minerals."
"I've got a new wiggle. I'd show it to you if I could only unfold
myself. I'm too stiff. It's awful cold up here, isn't it?"
"Cold? It's nothing to Chicago. I nearly froze to death in the postal
car. It's as much as I could do to keep my ink from freezing, and as for
the mucilage on the envelope, it was quite stiff, and full of little
crackles. I did think it would be warmer in New York."
"It was so warm in Oclahama, Mississippi, when I left, that the ink
wouldn't dry."
"I'm nine years old, and I came all the way from Des Moines."
"You ought to be pretty yellow by this time."
"It isn't me. It's my writer. She's a girl, and she says she didn't like
the 'Moral Pirates.'"
At this every one of the letters gave a thin groan, and the office-boy
sat right up and said, "My!"
The letters didn't seem to mind this singular remark, for they all began
to talk at once.
"I've got two Mexican and one Peru stamp, and some sea-shells. I live in
Philadelphia, and I'm ten years old."
"Any fellow want some iron ore? I've come from Marietta, Ohio, and I'll
exchange it for real Indian arrow-heads."
"Here I've come all the way from Strasburg, in Alsace, with a new
puzzle. I'm sure nobody can read it."
"Yes, they can. It's in English."
"We take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE in Germany. I'm nine years old."
"How can you talk about travelling? I've been shut up in four different
mail-bags for nearly two months. I came all the way from Samarang,
Java."
"I thought there was a dreadful smell of coffee in the mail-bag," said
a letter from Buffalo.
"Coffee!" said the postal card from Java, in a thin straw-board sort of
voice--"coffee! I was made out of grass that grew next to a coffee
plantation, and one day, just before I was cut down--"
"Gracious me!" said a piping voice that sounded as if it was made of
rice-straw. "Did they cut you down?"
"No! It was the grass. That's before I was born. Well, I was a-saying,
before I was interrupted, that--"
"Oh, do let 'er alone," said a note from Detroit.
"Ah!" cried all the letters; "let 'er alone. That will do for Detroit."
"Now I came from Manitoba," said a letter that had a crackling voice, as
if the ice was breaking. "There's not a house for sixteen miles, and
it's very lonesome in winter. We have plenty of ice and snow, and the
thermometer stays down near zero so much of the time that they do say it
has cold feet. Sometimes we do not see any one for a week; but we do not
care."
Just then the editor came in, and the office-boy jumped up and said,
"Good-morning, sir; nice lot of letters to-day."
Perhaps you don't believe this story: it's true, for all that. At any
rate, the last part is true; for every day there comes to Harper's Young
People a great pile of letters from boys and girls in all parts of the
civilized world.
[Illustration: A LITTLE TAILOR]
[Illustration: THE YOUNG ART STUDENT.]
MY PIG.
BY JIMMY BROWN.
I don't say that I didn't do wrong, but what I do say is that I meant to
do right. But that don't make any difference. It never does. I try to do
my very best, and then something happens, and I am blamed for it. When I
think what a disappointing world this is, full of bamboo canes and all
sorts of switches, I feel ready to leave it.
It was Sue's fault in the beginning; that is, if it hadn't been for her
it wouldn't have happened. One Sunday she and I were sitting in the
front parlor, and she was looking out of the window and watching for Mr.
Travers; only she said she wasn't, and that she was just looking to see
if it was going to rain, and solemnizing her thoughts. I had just asked
her how old she was, and couldn't Mr. Travers have been her father if he
had married mother, when she said, "Dear me how tiresome that boy is do
take a book and read for gracious sake." I said, "What book?" So she
gets up and gives me the _Observer_, and says, "There's a beautiful
story about a good boy and a pig do read it and keep still if you know
how and I hope it will do you some good."
Well, I read the story. It told all about a good boy whose name was
James, and his father was poor, and so he kept a pig that cost him
twenty-five cents, and when it grew up he sold it for thirty dollars,
and he brought the money to his father and said, "Here father! take this
O how happy I am to help you when you're old and not good for much," and
his father burst into tears, but I don't know what for, I wouldn't burst
into tears much if anybody gave me thirty dollars; and said, "Bless you
my noble boy you and your sweet pig have saved me from a watery grave,"
or something like that.
It was a real good story, and it made me feel like being likewise. So I
resolved that I would get a little new pig for twenty-five cents, and
keep it till it grew up, and then surprise father with twenty-nine
dollars, and keep one for myself as a reward for my good conduct. Only I
made up my mind not to let anybody know about it till after the pig
should be grown up, and then how the family would be delighted with my
"thoughtful and generous act"! for that's what the paper said James's
act was.
The next day I went to Farmer Smith, and got him to give me a little pig
for nothing, only I agreed to help him weed his garden all summer. It
was a beautiful pig, about as big as our baby, only it was a deal
prettier, and its tail was elegant. I wrapped it up in an old shawl, and
watched my chance and got it up into my room, which is on the third
story. Then I took my trunk and emptied it, and bored some holes in it
for air, and put the pig in it.
I had the best fun that ever was, all that day and the next day, taking
care of that dear little pig. I gave him one of my coats for a bed, and
fed him on milk, and took him out of the trunk every little while for
exercise. Nobody goes into my room very often, except the girl to make
the bed, and when she came I shut up the trunk, and she never suspected
anything. I got a whole coal-scuttleful of the very best mud, and put it
in the corner of the room for him to play in, and when I heard Bridget
coming, I meant to throw the bed-quilt over it, so she wouldn't suspect
anything.
After I had him two days I heard mother say, "Seems to me I hear very
queer noises every now and then up stairs." I knew what the matter was,
but I never said anything, and I felt so happy when I thought what a
good boy I was to raise a pig for my dear father.
Bridget went up to my room about eight o'clock one evening, just before
I was going to bed, to take up my clean clothes. We were all sitting in
the dining-room, when we heard her holler as if she was being murdered.
We all ran out to see what was the matter, and were half way up the
stairs, when the pig came down, and upset the whole family, and piled
them up on the top of himself at the foot of the stairs, and before we
got up Bridget came down and fell over us, and said she had just opened
the young masther's thrunk and out jumps the ould Satan himself and she
must see the priest or she would be a dead woman.
You wouldn't believe that, though I told them that I was raising the pig
to sell it and give the money to father; they all said that they had
never heard of such an abandoned and peremptory boy, and father said,
"Come up stairs with me and I'll see if I can't teach you that this
house isn't a pig-pen." I don't know what became of the pig, for he
broke the parlor window and ran away, and nobody ever heard of him
again.
"I'd like to see that boy James. I don't care how big he is. I'd show
him that he can't go on setting good examples to innocent boys without
suffering as he deserves to suffer."
MY MOTHER'S DEBUT.
BY B. A. N.
"Tell you a story?" said dear old grandma. "Dear me! dear me! I think
I've told you all I know. Shall I tell you 'Cinderella' over again?
or--"
"No, no, grandma," says a chorus of voices; "tell us something about
when you were young."
"Well, if you wish, I'll tell you about my mother's first party. It was
a winter night, and mother was to go at eight, and that was considered
very late; but Uncle Robert, who was to take her, couldn't get home
before. Her dress was beautiful--a peach-colored satin, with lace on it
already a generation old, and the hair-dresser was to come out from town
to arrange her hair, and she was to take with her Abigail, our poor
half-witted maid, to put on the finishing touches after they arrived.
"Now Abby had, as some poor weak-brained creatures have, a passionate
admiration for anything particularly bright and showy, and she had one
treasure which she guarded as the apple of her eye. It was a _very_
large bow of arsenic green, golden yellow, and tartan plaid, fastened in
the centre by a huge buckle of green and white glass. She also adored
mother.
"Well, the eventful night came, and mother at last was dressed and
ready. They say she looked beautiful, and she _was_ a very handsome
woman in her day, my dears. The satin gown went on just right, and did
not even ruffle the powdered hair, and mother, Abigail, and Uncle Robert
departed in the sleigh at eight precisely.
"When they arrived they were ushered up stairs to uncloak. Just as
mother turned to go down stairs, one of the maids came running in and
said, 'Miss Dolly, Mr. Robert has forgotten a very important message he
was to give Mr. Grey, and he says he will come back as soon as he can,
and for you to go down.' It was rather hard to make her first entry
alone, but still mother mustered up courage and went down. The host and
hostess received her very kindly, and she was soon enjoying herself very
much. There was only one drawback to her happiness: wherever she passed,
the people slightly turned, looked rather surprised, and then hastily
looked away, in vain trying to repress a smile. At last mother began to
get seriously worried, and running up stairs, asked Abby what the
trouble was. 'Why, nothing, Miss Dolly,' said she; 'it looks beautiful.'
So mother, satisfied, went down again. But now it was worse than before.
Audible titters and looks of surprise greeted her wherever she turned,
until from excitement and vexation she was ready to cry; so you may
imagine it was not long after Uncle Robert came before they were on
their way home.
"As they entered the parlor poor mother dropped her cloak, and sinking
into a chair, was on the verge of a deluge of tears, when a burst of
laughter from the assembled family made her spring to her feet, pale
with anger. What are you laughing at?' she demanded. 'I never was
treated so before. I never knew there were such rude people in the
world.' And fairly overcome, she sank down and cried as if her heart
would break. And then, in the midst of sobs and laughter, grandmother
moved forward and unpinned from the middle of my mother's back Abby's
green bow, to which was added a long string of artificial pansies! The
poor girl had felt hurt that she could do nothing for mother's first
party, so when they arrived she had added this decoration, thinking she
put the crowning touch to the costume.
"And this is the story of 'My Mother's Debut.'"
[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
PHIL'S FAIRIES.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS,
AUTHOR OF "PRINCESS IDLEWAYS," ETC.
CHAPTER XI.
A PAIR OF CRUTCHES.
Aunt Rachel's plan was entered into most heartily by both boys, and
Graham became so much interested as to act as express agent on his own
account, going to the city with what he called his first load of berries
and flowers; but on his return was so silent and uncommunicative that
Phil asked him if anything had gone wrong.
"Don't ask me to tell you what I saw," said he, in reply. "It was more
than I could stand." Then, as if sorry for his short answer, he added:
"It was the most pitiful thing in the world--such a lot of little pale
faces all together! and when I came to give them their share, as the
lady in charge told me to do, I cried right out like any baby--there,
now! But you have no idea how they brightened up, and how glad they
looked when they took the posies. I don't want to go again, though,
unless Miss Rachel asks me to. I shall see those poor wizened little
things as long as I live. I am going to sell all my pets this fall, and
give the money to St. Luke's Hospital, and I shall sell every egg my
chickens lay, for the same purpose."
After that Phil asked no more questions, but worked harder than ever at
his drawings, and as the season advanced, and flowers and fruit grew
more abundant, they were able to dispatch a basket twice a week.
Every day was filled with new life and pleasure. Increasing strength
alone would have been a source of happiness, but in addition to this
Phil had the benefit of Aunt Rachel's loving-kindness, Lisa's nursing,
Joe's good offices, and Graham's pleasant, friendly attentions. Then he
was learning constantly something new, with eyes and ears, from the book
of nature, with all its wonderful pictures, and from the other books
allowed him.
Driving behind old Slow Coach and floating on the lake in the _Flyaway_
were some of the delights, and when more visitors came, and two charming
young cousins of Aunt Rachel made the house resound with melody, Phil
thought his happiness complete. But a new surprise was in store for him,
when, after repeated consultations, and measurements, and whisperings, a
huge parcel was brought to his room, and Aunt Rachel and Lisa took off
the wrappings. Neither of them looked particularly joyful as a pair of
stout crutches made their appearance, but their faces changed
wonderfully when Phil gave a cry of glee, and said, hilariously, "Now I
can walk! now I can walk!"
He was eager to use his new helps, but it took a longer time than he had
imagined to get accustomed to them, and it was many weeks before he
could go down the garden paths (followed by Nep with much gravity, as if
Phil were in his especial care) with desirable ease.
Coming in from one of these rather tiresome attempts one warm morning,
and hearing music and voices in the parlor, Phil strayed into the
dining-room, which was darkened and cool, and fragrant with fresh
flowers. He lay down on a lounge, with his crutches beside him, and was
listening to the pretty waltz being played in the other room, when he
thought he saw a tiny creature light upon one of his crutches. Supposing
it, however, to be a butterfly, he watched it in a sleepy, dreamy
fashion, until it approached more nearly, and these words startled him:
"You do not know me," said a tiny voice, rather reproachfully.
"What! is it you, my dear little wind fairy?" he asked. "I never dreamed
that I should see you again. How did you get here?"
"Blown here, to be sure, as I always am, only I have to pilot myself, or
what would be the use in having wings? I came on some thistle-down this
time, for I wanted to have another peep at you, and I have had hard work
to follow you in here, I assure you; but the vibrations of that lovely
music helped me, and here I am. Do not talk--let me do it all. I never
have much time, you know, and I want to thank you for your goodness in
taking my advice, and helping some of my little sick friends. You do not
begin to know what good you have done--nobody does; but doing good is
very like the big snow-balls that children make in winter--a little ball
at first, but as they roll, it grows bigger and bigger, almost of
itself, until it is more than one can manage. So it has been with your
kind action: many have imitated it, and flowers come now to the
hospitals by the bushel. Not only children, but grown people, sad with
suffering, have been cheered and benefited. And you too are growing
strong: how glad I am to see it! Your cheeks are tinged with just a
delicate bloom, and you have grown taller. Ah, the country is the place
for you children! I saw one of your sketches in the hospital the other
day, hung under a little cross made of moss; it was a water-lily, and
out of it was stepping some one who looked like me. The child who owned
it said it came to her tied to some roses. She did not know I heard her;
she was telling a visitor, and she said it made her happy every time she
looked at it. That was a pretty thought of yours. This is my last visit
for a long while. I am to be sent off to fan her Royal Highness, the
Queen of Kind Wishes, when her coronation takes place. She lives in her
palace of Heart's Ease in a faraway island. I am to sail part of the way
in a nautilus--one of those lovely shells you have seen, I dare say."
"No," said Phil, "I never saw one. And so you are going away--"
"Never saw a nautilus!" interrupted the fairy, as if afraid Phil was
going to be doleful over her departure. "It looks like a ship, for all
the world, and it _is_ a ship for me, but it would not hold you--oh no!
not such a gigantic creature as a boy;" and the fairy laughed aloud.
"Dear me!" said Phil; "no more visits, no more fairy stories. What will
I do?"
"Shall I tell you just one more story before I say good-by?"
"Please do."
"Well, shut your eyes and listen."
Phil obeyed, and the fairy began:
In the days when fairies had much more power than they now have,
there lived in a little house on the edge of a wood haunted by
elves and brownies a boy named Arthur. He was a bright, handsome
lad, but a little lazy, and much more fond of pleasure than of
work; and he had a way of flinging himself down in the woods to
lounge and sleep when his mother at home was waiting for him to
come back with a message, or to do some little promised task. Now
the fairies knew this, and it displeased them; for they are as busy
as bees, and do not like idleness. Besides, as one bad habit leads
to another, Arthur, in his lounging ways, would often do great
damage to the fairies' flower beds, switching off the heads of wild
flowers in the most ruthless fashion, and even pulling them up by
the roots when he felt like it.
[Illustration: THE ENCHANTED FROG AND THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD.]
One day he had been indulging this whim without any motive, hardly
even thinking what he was doing, when he began to feel very
strangely: a slight chill made him shiver; his eyes felt as if
they were coming out of his head, his legs as if they were getting
smaller and smaller; he had an irresistible desire to hop, and he
was very thirsty. There was a rivulet near, and instead of walking
to it, he leaped, and stooping to drink, he saw himself reflected
in its smooth surface. No longer did he see Arthur; no longer was
he a mortal boy. Instead of this, a frog--a green speckled frog,
with great bulging eyes and a fishy mouth--looked up at him. He
tried to call, to shout, but in vain; he could only croak, and
this in the most dismal manner. What was he to do? Sit and stare
about him, try to catch flies, plunge down into the mud--charming
amusements for the rest of his life! A little brown bird hopped
down for a drink from the rivulet; she stooped and rose, stooped
and rose, again and again.
A great green tear rolled down from the frog's bulging eye, and
splashed beside the bird's drinking-place. She looked up in alarm,
and said, in the sweetest voice imaginable,
"Can I do anything to assist you?"
"I am sure I don't know," croaked Arthur, hoarse as if he had been
born with a sore throat.
"But what _is_ the matter?" persisted the little brown bird, as
more green tears splashed beside her.
"The matter is that I am a frog, I suppose," said Arthur, rather
rudely.
"Well, what of that?" still said the little bird. "Frogs are very
respectable."
"Are they, indeed; then I'd rather not be respectable," said
Arthur.
"You shock me," said the bird.
"I don't wonder; it has been a great shock to me," responded
Arthur.
"What has?" said the bird.
"Being a frog," replied Arthur.
"Have you not always? Oh no; I presume you were once a tadpole;
all frogs are at first."
"Indeed I never was a tadpole," said Arthur, indignantly; and
then, it seeming somewhat a funny idea to him, he began to laugh
in the hoarsest, croakiest _kerthumps_, which brought him to his
senses again. Then he added, to the little brown bird, which
fluttered about him in some agitation, "No, I never was a
tadpole--I was a boy named Arthur a few moments ago."
"Aha!" twittered the little brown bird, "I see now: you have been
bewitched."
"I suppose so," said Arthur; "and I would gladly be beswitched
into a boy again, if that would do any good."
"I must try and see what I can do for you. I am very busy
repairing my nest--it was injured in the last storm; but I will go
as soon as I can to see one of the herb elves, and find out what
is to be done. You must have displeased them very much."
"You are very kind," replied Arthur, taking no notice of the
latter words.
"Oh no, not at all; it is a pleasure," said the little brown bird.
"Can I do anything for you?" asked Arthur, roused into politeness
by the pleasant manners of his little friend.
"You might gather some twigs or moss. Oh no, it would be all wet,
and I should have great bother in drying it," said the little
housekeeper. "I am equally obliged, but you had better just stay
quiet and keep cool till I return;" and she flew softly away.
"I can keep cool enough," repeated Arthur; "when one's legs are in
the water, it would be pretty hard to do anything else."
It seemed dreadfully long to wait, when all he could do was to
wink, and yawn, and gobble flies, and yet lounging in the woods
and killing flowers had never seemed tedious when he was a boy. He
tried to go to sleep, but was in too great a bewilderment to
quietly close his eyes in slumber, so he gazed at the brook, and
wondered when the little brown bird would re-appear.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PINAFORE RHYMES.--(_Continued._)
[Illustration]
Yee-Lee, the Chinaman,
Goes walking down the street,
With paper sun-shade, and a dress
That reaches to his feet.
Oh what a funny sight is he,
That yellow Chinaman, Yee-Lee!
His eyes are slanting little slits,
So that he can't see straight;
His head is polished till it shines
Just like a china plate;
And pussy thinks he's very kind
To let his pigtail drag behind.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
The wind asked the children
To dance on the green;
But the fiddler and fifer
Were not to be seen.
So the wind whistled for them
A gay, merry tune,
But so fast that the children
Grew tired very soon.
"Oh, we must stop dancing!"
Cried each little child;
"The tune that you whistle
Is so very wild!"
That made the wind angry;
It rose very high;
And their hats and their sun-shades
Were blown to the sky.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
A merry group,
With spades in hand,
Building wee houses
Of yellow sand.
They dig and delve
The livelong day;
But even children
tired with play.
On pillows soft
Their heads they lay,
While the wee houses
Are washed away.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
What is the matter with Princess Maude,
All alone in her tower?
She sits forlorn in her little chair,
And cries to herself by the hour.
We'll carry some flowers to Princess Maude,
And a basket of apples and pears;
We'll call her to open the window wide,
For we can't go up the stairs.
Throw open your window, Princess Maude,
It is only Charlie and me;
The cat and the dog are fast asleep,
And there's nobody here to see.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Dear Mary Angelina Jane,
You will be sorry to be told
My doll was left out in the rain,
So that she caught a dreadful cold.
She's better now, the doctors say,
Though I'm afraid of a relapse.
And now no more from me to-day--
I'll write some other day, perhaps.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
I am a little colored girl just seven years old. This is my first
letter. I live near our white folks, who have taught us to read and
write, and who let us read their copy of YOUNG PEOPLE. We read the
letters in the Post-office Box, and I thought I would ask the
little people to send me some of their old books, or anything to
help a little girl learn. I am too poor to buy any books, and the
ladies can not get them for me.
Please put this letter in the Post-office Box.
HANNAH MCDANIEL,
Lincolnton, Lincoln Co., N. C.
We hope little Hannah will write to us again, and tell us of the favors
which we are confident she will receive from many of our young readers,
of whose kind and generous hearts we have on different occasions had
gratifying proof. We are sure they will not allow the appeal of this
poor little colored girl to pass unnoticed.
* * * * *
BUTTERNUT LAKE, WISCONSIN.
My sister and I are delighted to have YOUNG PEOPLE again. We could
not get along without it. We received the back numbers all safe
before the snow blockade set in. The big snow-storms below shut us
in two weeks without any mail.
We live on a beautiful inland lake, about fifty miles from Lake
Superior. Our house is on a peninsula extending into the lake. We
can look down through the "Narrows" into another lake, where we
can see a beautiful island. The lake is full of pike and
muskallonge, some of the latter weighing forty pounds. We have
such beautiful trees here! Our pets are a big Newfoundland dog
named Leo, and a Norwegian cat named Eric. Leo will stand on his
hind-feet and beg, and go in the water for sticks. We can soon
watch for the hepaticas.
FANNIE T. M.
* * * * *
MARSHALLTOWN, IOWA.
Our school takes HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and on Friday afternoons
our teacher reads us a story from it, and after hearing it we have
to write it out in our own words. The last we wrote about was
"Cleopatra's Needle."
Our County Superintendent advised all the other schools to take
YOUNG PEOPLE, so that the scholars might have something nice to
read.
Our teacher has read "Toby Tyler" to us, and we are very much
interested in it.
I wish every boy and girl in the United States could have YOUNG
PEOPLE to read.
HARRY B. M.
* * * * *
DENMARK, KANSAS.
We came here from Pennsylvania almost two years ago.
There are lots of prairie-wolves out here. They come right up to
the house at night after chickens. We have two dogs. One is a
shepherd dog, and we have named him Wolf, because he looks so much
like one. The other is a little rat terrier named Candle. One
night the wolves came round the house, and the dogs ran out after
them. Pretty soon we heard a dreadful yelping. We went out, and
found one of the wolves had Candle in its mouth, and our Wolf was
fighting like everything. When they saw us, the wolves dropped
Candle and ran away.
My brothers and I and the dogs caught fifteen rabbits this winter.
There are just lots of them out here.
There is very little timber here, only along the creeks. It is
mostly cottonwood and elm. We live between two creeks, ten miles
from town, and thirty miles from the railroad. Our school-house is
two miles away. It has been very cold here this winter, with deep
snow. We have to go three miles for the mail, and I generally go
on horseback. We can hardly wait for Tuesday, for that is the day
we get YOUNG PEOPLE.
ROBERT E. L. N.
* * * * *
CROW AGENCY, MONTANA.
There are about three thousand Indians around here. It is quite a
show to see them dance. They have a large drum made of skin, and
they paint and dress very queer. They are beginning now to come in
after their annuities. When they are distributed, the employes haul
them out in wagons, and the Indians sit around in rings, and each
chief orders some of his men to receive the things and distribute
them.
The winters here are very cold. They are much colder than in
California, where I used to live. I am thirteen years old.
VOLNEY B. K.
* * * * *
ILION, NEW YORK.
I think that HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE is the best paper that I ever
saw. It is welcomed alike by old and young in our household. We are
all very much interested in "Toby Tyler," and we all laugh at the
trials and troubles of Jimmy Brown.
My father taught school this winter, and I did not miss a day
during the term. Now I am tending a sugar bush with my grandpa. We
have a hut made of boards to shelter us when it storms; and it is
rare fun to see the sap seethe and hiss in the great square pan
which is set over the "arch," as the fire-place is called.
L. C. A.
* * * * *
MURFREESBOROUGH, TENNESSEE.
YOUNG PEOPLE is very interesting. I think "Phil's Fairies" is just
beautiful.
I went to the mountains in North Carolina last summer, and mamma
and I went to a mica mine and got some specimens. They are very
beautiful. I heard the explosion, and I saw the mica and rock come
up in a barrel, which was hoisted by a windlass worked by a
donkey.
Besides the thin transparent pieces of mica, we gathered some
specimens of white and green rock with little shreds of mica
glistening in them. They are lovely. I am seven years old.
CLAIRE F. H.
* * * * *
I find YOUNG PEOPLE so interesting that I can not do without it.
The boys here rush for it as eagerly as if the news-room were a
candy stand.
I would like to exchange some good books (no novels) for the works
of Oliver Optic or Harry Castlemon, or for other good books. I
have a large library. I only desire books bound and in good
condition.
Those wishing to exchange will please send me the title and name
of author of the book, and I will send the same of any volume I am
willing to give for it.
ALEXANDER A. REEVES,
Emporia, Lyon Co., Kansas.
* * * * *
I will exchange a book entitled _Grimm's Fairy Tales_, in good
condition, for Miss Alcott's _Eight Cousins_. Correspondents will
please write before sending the book.
PLEASANCE MILLER,
Chicorica Park, Raton, Colfax Co., New Mexico.
* * * * *
I will exchange Idaho minerals for well-bound books of an
instructive character. Correspondents will please send a list of
books they wish to exchange before sending me any package.
J. P. CLOUGH, Junction, Lemhi Co., Idaho.
We hope that these exchangers who wish to obtain books will meet with
success and fair dealing, as we regard the exchange of books, if well
conducted, as one likely to prove both pleasant and beneficial.
* * * * *
I would like to exchange a Baltimorean self-inking press for a good
scroll-saw. My press is a new one. I will also give two boxes of
old English and two of plain type for some patterns and saws.
VANDERBILT OLMSTEAD,
1558 Broadway, New York City.
* * * * *
I will exchange little cakes of nice maple sugar with any little
girl, for shells or sea-moss. We make a good lot of sugar here.
I am nine years old.
EDNA WHEELER,
Williamsville, Windham Co., Vt.
* * * * *
I live in Nagasaki, Japan. I was born here in an old temple. I have
a little sister seven years old. I am always so glad to get YOUNG
PEOPLE! I watch anxiously for every mail to come, that I may read
the new stories.
I have a great many pressed flowers and ferns, which I would like
to exchange, with any reader of YOUNG PEOPLE, for curious flower
seeds, Indian arrow-heads, or other curiosities.
J. PROVOST STOUT, Nagasaki, Japan.
* * * * *
I am a Southern girl, and I love YOUNG PEOPLE as well as any of the
Northern children. I live at our country-seat at a place called
"Locust Grove." It is very dear to me, and very beautiful. It has
been one of the coldest winters we have had in many years. The snow
has been more than a foot deep in many places, and it staid on the
ground three weeks.
I would like to exchange crochet patterns with some of the many
little girls who write to the Post-office Box. I crochet a great
deal, and I would like some new patterns.
LUCIE E. FOSTER,
Louisburg, Franklin Co., N. C.
* * * * *
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
"Wee Tot" Brainard wishes to say that she has nearly one hundred
letters now lying unanswered, and she asks her correspondents to be
patient, and they shall all receive attention. Her cabinet of
curiosities is really very fine. There are beautiful things from
all parts of the world, and others are constantly coming.
"WEE TOT'S" PAPA.
* * * * *
I will exchange a specimen of the rock from which Michigan stucco
and plaster are made, for any curiosity except stamps. The plaster
beds are near here. To make the plaster they blast the rock, and
break it and grind it.
BEN C. ROBINSON,
91 Prospect Street, Grand Rapids, Mich.
* * * * *
Perhaps some of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE would like to know how
I am getting a collection of pressed leaves, flowers, etc., for
they are very interesting as well as pretty.
My Leaf Album, as I call it, is a blank-book about four and a half
inches wide and seven and a half long, and it opens at the end.
But I think that a larger book would be better, because it would
hold some large leaves.
I put the leaves on one side of the paper only, and fasten them in
with a tiny touch of gum mucilage, and beneath each I write the
name, date, where picked, and often a few words relating to
something that occurred. For instance, below one leaf in my album
I wrote: "Elm leaf. May 22, 1880. Picked from the tree on which we
had our swing, at the Sunday-school picnic, near the lake, five
miles north of L----."
When I pick a leaf or flower I put it in a book to dry, arranging
it carefully, and with it I put a slip of paper, on which I write
the name of the leaf or flower, the date when picked, etc., so as
not to get my specimens mixed. Then when they are real dry, I put
them in my album.
Among the flowers in my album I have some potato blossoms, and
they are very handsome. They keep their bright colors when dry. I
think a great deal of my leaf album, and it is much admired by
every one.
I will exchange pressed leaves and flowers, for pressed flowers
from other States, and especially from foreign countries.
To go safely through the mails they should be placed between two
thicknesses of card or paste board. I also have some foreign
postage stamps, and I will give ten for ten department stamps; or
fifteen foreign stamps, or the same number of postmarks, for a
half-cent of 1849, or two of any other date.
A READER OF "YOUNG PEOPLE,"
P. O. Box 915, Emporia, Lyon Co., Kansas.
* * * * *
William and Jennie Otterson, Bennet Creek, Idaho, wish to notify their
correspondents that they can not exchange any more Indian arrow-heads.
* * * * *
Lucy Sharp, Bridgeton, New Jersey, gives notice to correspondents that
she has no more ferns to exchange.
* * * * *
L. H. Nelson, Philadelphia, notifies his correspondents that he was
burned out, and is forced to withdraw from our exchange list.
* * * * *
The following exchanges are offered by correspondents:
Postmarks, for Indian relics and other curiosities.
THOMAS PAGE,
P. O. Box 817, Williamsport, Penn.
* * * * *
Oregon land-moss, barnacles from Puget Sound, and white coral from
the Pacific coast, for sea-moss, sea-weed, and shells.
MOLLIE C. VOORHEES,
Woodburn, Marion Co., Oregon.
* * * * *
Old issues of United States stamps, for foreign stamps.
JOHN B. CHAMBERLINE,
69 Middle Street, Gloucester, Essex Co., Mass.
* * * * *
Ivory nuts, for Indian arrow-heads.
WILLIE SHORT,
Woodlawn Heights, New York City.
* * * * *
Stamps or postmarks, for minerals or cowries.
WALTER S. STILLMAN,
P. O. Box 966, Council Bluffs, Iowa.
* * * * *
West India shells, foreign stamps, and United States postmarks, for
Indian arrow-heads and other relics.
WILLIAM TODD,
2111 Spring Street, Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
Choice minerals, for Indian arrow-heads or other Indian relics.
C. F. TEED,
508 Roe Avenue, Elmira, N. Y.
* * * * *
A printing-press, for a collection of stamps (no duplicates).
J. V. L. RANHARD,
P. O. Box 371, Brookline, Mass.
* * * * *
Limestone, for Indian relics or curiosities; or a specimen of
silver ore, for one of copper or lead.
HARRY S. ROBINSON,
Care of Dr. O. F. Harvey, Wilkesbarre, Penn.
* * * * *
Stamps or postmarks, for stamps.
E. R.,
P. O. Box 125, Sherman, Grayson Co., Texas.
* * * * *
Foreign and United States stamps, for stamps from Egypt, Cape of
Good Hope, Cuba, and South America.
ALEX. SELKIRK, JUN.,
132 First Street, Albany, N. Y.
* * * * *
Pieces of tamarack, red cedar, and hickory, for bird's-eye maple
and red or yellow birch.
LEON H. TAYLOR,
Manchester, Delaware Co., Iowa.
* * * * *
Postage stamps and postmarks, for ocean curiosities and minerals.
WALTER S. RUSSELL,
Cooperstown, Otsego Co., N. Y.
* * * * *
Stamps from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and other countries, for
stamps or coins.
W. G. LANGDON,
5 Stanhope Street, Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
Indian arrow-heads, for minerals or sea-shells.
ARTHUR B. CARR, Henryville, Ind.
* * * * *
Specimens of poplar, maple, oak, hickory, bass, cottonwood, walnut,
elm, box, and elder, for other woods, or for stamps or
curiosities. Please label specimen.
FRED L. PARCHER,
Marysville, Nodaway Co., Mo.
* * * * *
Mica, silver ore, or stones from Keuka Lake, for an Indian
arrow-head, or minerals.
HARRIE D. WATSON,
P. O. Box 434, Penn Yan, Yates Co., N. Y.
* * * * *
A few French stamps, and some old issues of United States stamps,
for United States Navy, War, Interior, or State departments, or for
foreign stamps.
R. G. W., P. O. Box 367, Norwalk, Conn.
* * * * *
Postage stamps, for a stamp album. Correspondents will please state
how many stamps they would require for album.
T. J. ANDREWS,
290 Clermont Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y.
* * * * *
A set of five German or Bavarian stamps, for two stamps from the
Cape of Good Hope, Mexico, or South America.
EVERETT S. TREAT,
Station M, New York City.
* * * * *
Forty foreign stamps (no duplicates), for twelve United States
department stamps.
W. F. FRATCHER,
Union News Co. Stand, Depot, Utica, N. Y.
* * * * *
Silver ore, for foreign postage stamps. Correspondents will please
write name and value on back of each stamp.
VERNON CHESLEIGH,
14 Carmine Street (in store), New York City.
* * * * *
Three Mexican stamps, a five, ten, and twenty-five, for an Asiatic
stamp.
JAMES L. MILLER, P. O. Box 141,
Mamaroneck, Westchester Co., N. Y.
* * * * *
Asbestos from Pelham, Massachusetts, or quartz crystals from
Diamond Mountain, Rhode Island, for shells, ocean curiosities,
malachite, or copper ore.
FRANK W. COOKE,
P. O. Box 54, Amherst, Mass.
* * * * *
Indian arrow-heads and specimens of meteoric rock, for Indian
relics, ores, ocean curiosities, coins, or anything suitable for a
museum.
JOHN G. CLARK, Economy, Wayne Co., Ind.
* * * * *
Foreign and United States stamps, coins, and autographs of noted
men; or stones from Kansas, and a few relics from the Chicago fire,
for a genuine Indian bow and arrows.
ELMER S. CUNNINGHAM,
Champaign, Champaign Co., Ill.
* * * * *
Two Austrian stamps, for two Danish stamps.
E. A. CAMPBELL,
216 East Twenty-seventh Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Twenty-five foreign postage stamps (no duplicates), for a
star-fish, sea-weeds, or Indian relics.
ALEX. STRONG,
Monticello, Sullivan Co., N. Y.
* * * * *
Postmarks, buttons, or soil of Pennsylvania, for stamps, coins, or
curiosities.
EDGAR F. JORDAN,
2129 Arch Street, Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
White and red coral and a piece of Fort Marco, St. Augustine,
Florida, for African, Asiatic, or European stamps.
HOWARD HOOKER, North Crescent Avenue,
Avondale, near Cincinnati, Ohio.
* * * * *
Foreign postage stamps, for United States internal revenue stamps.
No duplicates.
O. H. BRUCE,
Piedmont, Mineral Co., W. Va.
* * * * *
Twenty-five good foreign stamps, for a three-cornered Cape of Good
Hope stamp.
GEORGE S. SCHILLING,
104 South Third Street, Brooklyn, E. D., N. Y.
* * * * *
Minerals, stamps, and postmarks, for minerals and stamps.
ELLISTON J. PEROT,
Morton Street, Germantown, Penn.
* * * * *
Full sets of War, Interior, Navy, and Post-office department
stamps, for rare old United States envelopes. High values
especially desired.
H. W. PRATT,
1212 New York Avenue, Washington, D. C.
* * * * *
New York State minerals, for specimens from any other State.
H. H. PIFFARD,
P. O. Box 136, Cornwall-on-the-Hudson, N. Y.
* * * * *
Postmarks, for curiosities or Indian relics.
ALLIE MAXWELL,
68 Eighth Street, Hoboken, N. J.
* * * * *
A set of fancy card type for amateur printers' use, for one hundred
and fifty foreign stamps (no duplicates).
ISAAC A. W. MORAN,
175 East 113th Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Thirty-one postage stamps, a green-colored mineral, a specimen of
copper ore, and a piece of Pulpit Rock, for a copy of the rules and
regulations of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland.
H. MCKEAN, Jackson, Amador Co., Cal.
* * * * *
An Indian arrow-head and two pieces of pottery, for twenty foreign
postage stamps.
EDDIE GORDON, Beaver Dam, Dodge Co., Wis.
* * * * *
We are very sorry to say that one of our young correspondents has sent
us as an original composition for YOUNG PEOPLE a puzzle which was
published some time ago in another paper. By so doing he has forfeited
our confidence, and we shall be obliged to exclude his name from our
columns for the future.
* * * * *
J. H.--Amati violins in perfect condition have brought a price as high
as $1500, while poor ones have been sold for $300. At a recent sale in
London some very good ones brought prices ranging from $800 to $900.
There are only a very few specimens of genuine Amati violins in this
country.
* * * * *
We acknowledge, with thanks, a beautifully written "prize letter" from a
little girl, pupil in a public school in Howard City, Michigan; and also
a package of twelve letters from the boys and girls of a primary school
in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. We regret that we have no room to print
these favors. They are all neatly written and prettily expressed, and
even could we print the best one from our little friends in Pittsburgh,
we would not know which to choose. Our young readers will be pleased to
know that every one of these Pittsburgh school-children is deeply
interested in the adventures of Toby Tyler, and full of sympathy for his
misfortunes.
* * * * *
LEWIS B. M.--The set consisting of seven stamps, including stamped
envelope, is worth about twelve cents if cancelled. A set of the same,
uncancelled, can be bought for sixty cents.
* * * * *
EDMUND S. H.--Russian merchant vessels have the right to pass out of the
Black Sea through the Dardanelles, but ships of war are not allowed to
pass without a firman from the Porte.--Servia is an independent
principality. Roumania is also independent, and until very recently has
had the same form of government as Servia, but by a vote unanimously
passed by the Senate and Chamber of Deputies, Prince Charles of Roumania
has become King. Bulgaria is a vassal of the Porte.
* * * * *
GUSSIE S.--Jimmy Brown is alive, and is not an old man.
* * * * *
KARL C. W.--See answer to C. N. C. in the Post-office Box of YOUNG
PEOPLE No. 67.
* * * * *
R., VIRGINIA.--Your stamp was issued at Memphis, Tennessee, in 1861,
and, if in good condition, is now worth about one dollar, as it is rare.
The letters you can not make out are _ay_.
* * * * *
ALICE N. B.--The name given by the English to the Indian who caused the
death of King Philip was Alderman. His Indian name is not given in any
history. He was one of the followers of King Philip; but when Philip
killed his brother because he had advised the King to listen to
proposals for peace, he vowed revenge, and going to the English, offered
to show them where Philip was concealed. Captain Church immediately
started for the swamp near Mount Hope with a party of armed men, guided
by Alderman. Philip's wigwam was surrounded, and the chieftain himself
was shot as he was attempting to escape through the forest. It is a
matter of dispute whether the bullet which pierced the heart of Philip
was fired by Alderman, the Indian, or by Caleb Cook, the Plymouth
soldier who stood by his side, but the deed is generally attributed to
Alderman.
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
ENIGMA.
In girl, not in boy.
In grief, not in joy.
In rags, not in silk.
In cream, not in milk.
In foot, not in toe.
In fast, not in slow.
In ramble, not in roam.
In Africa my home.
PERCY.
* * * * *
No. 2.
EASY WORD SQUARES.
1.--1. Refreshing in summer. 2. A girl's name. 3. An ancient ruler. 4.
Adjacent.
EMILY.
2.--1. A metal. 2. A girl's name. 3. A mineral substance. 4. Moist.
GEORGE W.
* * * * *
No. 3.
NUMERICAL CHARADES.
1. I am the classic name of a European peninsula composed of 11 letters.
My 1, 2, 3, 4 is to examine carefully.
My 5, 6, 7 is a loud sound.
My 9, 8, 7 is a kind of wagon.
My 5, 10, 11, 4, 3 is a character in mythology.
WILLIE P. C.
2. I am composed of 9 letters, and am a character well known to readers
of YOUNG PEOPLE.
My 3, 8, 7, 5 encircles.
My 9, 6, 8 is a kind of grain.
My 1, 2, 4 is a trifle.
OLIVER TWIST.
3. I am a wonderful natural curiosity in the United States composed of
11 letters.
My 10, 11, 6, 5 is to prohibit.
My 4, 9, 3, 1, 2 is a sweet word.
My 8, 7, 2, 6 is what school-girls like to do.
M. C. H.
* * * * *
No. 4.
FRAME PUZZLE.
* *
* *
* * * * * * * * * *
* *
* *
* *
* *
* * * * * * * * * *
* *
* *
Make this frame of four words of ten letters each. The intersecting
letter at each corner is A, and the words signify: foreign; to
institute; to scourge; a substance containing iron.
BOLUS.
* * * * *
No. 5.
TRIPLE ENIGMA--(_To Starry Flag_).
In vindictive, not in spurn.
In incense, not in burn.
In grains, but not in rice.
In nutmeg, not in spice.
In savage, not in free.
Three goddesses were we
Worshipped in Greece and Rome,
And Olympus was our home.
DAME DURDEN.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 73.
No. 1.
Grosbeak, Bobolink.
No. 2.
A P P A L A C H I C O L A
T A L L A H A S S E E
A S T R A K H A N
M I L T Z I N
P A T O S
T A Y
H
B O N
S A O N E
C H I C A G O
N E U C H A T E L
K L A U S E N B U R G
R I V I E R E D U L O U P
No. 3.
V I C E S S T A R T
I D E A L T U N E R
C E A S E A N I S E
E A S E D R E S I N
S L E D S T R E N T
K A T E I T E M
A C I D T I M E
T I D E E M I R
E D E N M E R E
No. 4.
1. Electric light. 2. Coal-scuttle. 3. King Arthur.
* * * * *
Throwing Light, on page 336.--Furze, furs, firs.
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Alice N. Blood, Ray
B., _Hugh Burns_, _Boys of Marcella Street Home_, Alice Cantine, Howard
Cleveland, R. O. Chester, "Dollars and Cents," "Ed. I. Torial," John C.
Gabel, Edward Gude, Henry Gottlieb, J. L. Hastie, Jun., Willie Hartwell,
Eddie S. Hequembourg, Frank Haines, Alice M. H., "L. U. Stral," "Lode
Star," "Milwaukee," _Percy L. McDermott_, May and Fannie, "Pepper,"
A. P., Harold N. Pleis, Edith Ross, "Starry Flag," _Howard J. Van
Doren_, Willie F. Woolard, "Young Solver."
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
SINGLE COPIES, 4 cents; ONE SUBSCRIPTION, one year, $1.50; FIVE
SUBSCRIPTIONS, one year, $7.00--_payable in advance, postage free_.
The Volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE commence with the first Number in
November of each year.
Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it
will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the
Number issued after the receipt of the order.
Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY-ORDER OR DRAFT, to avoid
risk of loss.
HARPER & BROTHERS,
Franklin Square, N. Y.
[Illustration]
THE STUCK-UP BOY.
A ravenous boy at Manassas
Once ate so much cake and molasses
That he (living in clover)
Grew sticky all over,
So that various things, from old letters to corks,
Spoons, bread-crumbs, and scissors, raised biscuits, and forks,
Stuck to him like brothers,
Burrs, beggars, or mothers,
Until every one yelled,
"He's the stuckupest boy that we ever beheld."
LEAD AND ITS USES.
The uses of lead are numerous: it is employed in making the fine kinds
of glass, enabling them to bear the sudden changes of heat and cold
better; also to give glass a proper degree of weight, and render it more
easy to be cut without breaking. Lead gives to glass a greater power of
refracting the rays of light, and confers upon it a higher polish.
A mixture of lead with tin forms _pewter_, and the same metals in
different proportions make that useful article to plumbers and others,
_soft solder_.
Lead, in the condition of sheets, has long been employed for the
preservation of the bodies of great personages, and is in common use for
coffins.
You have often seen the thin sheet-lead with which boxes of tea,
imported from China, are lined. The manufacture of this by the Chinese
is very simple. The lead plates are not rolled, as from their extreme
thinness might be supposed; nor even hammered, as the appearance of the
surface might indicate; but actually cast at once in the state in which
we see them. Two men are employed; one of them is seated on the floor,
with a large flat stone before him, and with a movable flat stone stand
at his side. His fellow-workman stands beside him with a crucible filled
with melted lead; and having poured a sufficient quantity on the slab,
the other lifts the movable stone, and placing it suddenly on the fluid
lead, presses it out into a flat and thin plate, which he instantly
removes from the stone. A second quantity of lead is poured on in a
similar manner, and a like plate formed, the process being carried on
with singular rapidity. The rough edges of the plates are then cut off,
and they are afterward soldered together for use.
Large quantities of lead are used for the manufacture of shot and
bullets. The smaller kinds of shot are made by pouring the metal from a
considerable height, in consequence of which it separates into globular
masses of different sizes, which cool during their descent, and in the
water into which they fall.
CHARADE.
My first is truly the first
Among persons of every degree;
My second composes my whole,
And without it my whole can not be.
Yet unless from my second my whole
Is separate wholly and free,
My whole can never exist.
Now read you this riddle to me.
LONDON BRIDGE.
"London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down--
London Bridge is falling down,
So farewell, my lady.
"You've broke the locks, and stole my gold,
Stole my gold, stole my gold--
You've broke the locks, and stole my gold,
So farewell, my lady.
"Then off to prison you'll have to go,
Have to go, have to go--
Then off to prison you'll have to go,
So farewell, my lady."
[Illustration: "LONDON BRIDGE IS FALLING DOWN."]
DESCRIPTION OF THE GAME.
One may often see in our city streets a group of children, two standing
with uplifted hands while the others pass between, and chanting, in a
tune of their own, the foregoing words. At the conclusion the hands are
dropped around a comrade, and he is asked to choose between the two
leaders, who have decided upon names--as, "a gold church," and "a silver
castle"--and placed behind his choice. At last all are caught. Then
comes the "tug," often a very unequal and amusing contest.
[Illustration: THE "TUG."]
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, April 12, 1881, by Various
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